


if you're that way inclined

by obscuriaal



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Porn, M/M, Masturbation, camboy freddie, flatmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2019-09-23 16:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscuriaal/pseuds/obscuriaal
Summary: It's not the sort of business a proper young man gets into, but Freddie (Mercury to friends and fans) will take quick cash and the sleazy adoration where he can get it.a.k.a. the camboy!Freddie/Brian au that nobody asked for





	1. wanna try?

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin, I'd like to state for the record that my experience of the webcam business is strictly limited to that one horror movie on Netflix and a few eyebrow-raising google searches, so please do not expect this to be a factually accurate portrayal of the business. I'm just here to have a good time.
> 
> Any references or resemblance to real people are entirely intentional. And yes, Paul Prenter was a jealous little prick.

 

_[lil.bit.cocky]: pleeeease mercury dont finish yet_

 

_[youbetcha]: you didnt even get naked yet_

 

_< < winnethepoof tipped 200 tokens >>_

 

_[winnethepoof]: fifteen more minutes mercury pls_

 

“Oh darlings, darlings, come _on_ , you know I can’t stay _all_ night,” Freddie grinned into his webcam as the messages flooded up the chat, grinning widely before affecting an exaggerated yawn and stretching. A tinny clinking sound came through his speakers- another tip- and the dark haired boy laughed and shook his head. “I suppose I could stay just a _little_ longer, darlings- you are such good company after all. Maybe you could help me choose something _nice_ to wear to bed?”

 

The chat message notifications picked up in pace immediately, but Freddie couldn’t quite see them as he picked himself up- making sure to give his audience a good view of his ass in a favourite pair of pink briefs-and padded over to his wardrobe, still in shot of the camera. From it, he selected two hangers, pausing on a few others first to thoughtfully touch the fabric as though he didn’t know exactly what he had in mind. He’d bought these little outfits last week and had been waiting for the right moment to use them; given the dire state of his bank account before he’d started tonight’s stream, and the not insubstantial viewer count, it seemed a good time.

 

“No peeking!” He declared, making sure to give a flash of silk and lace to the camera before holding the hangers behind his back and returning to his computer, grin wide and mischievous - very much on the Mercury brand.

 

_[youbetcha]: show us!!!_

 

_< < i_want_it_all joined the room >>_

 

_[tr1xster90]: corset for 500 tokens_

 

With a little laugh, Freddie shook his head. “Not tonight, love, but maybe we can get around to that private chat sometime…?” he teased, and was rewarded by another clink- tr1xter90 had been showing up more and more over the last couple of weeks and getting quite generous with his tips; Freddie was keen to keep him sweet. It paid to pander a little to men whose egos were easily stroked. He winked at the camera and revealed the two outfits with a flourish and a gasp, as though they were a surprise to him too.

 

“Okay darlings, what do we think? Nice…” he held up the first hanger against his lithe body, from which a lovely little pink slip that even the room’s soft mood lighting showed was near transparent. He let his fingers play with the hem a little, brushing the top of his thigh, before lifting it with a sly little smile, flicking his eyes up to the camera (and to the chat, checking the reception).

 

It wasn’t always easy to keep up with the message feed; Freddie tried his best, but he didn’t need to read every single one to get the gist, and it wasn’t as though what was said really changed much from night to night. _mr_fahrenheit_ had only been broadcasting for a couple of months, but already Freddie suspected he had seen every possible variation on ‘ _ur so hot i want to fuck ur ass’_ that could be imagined. Most of the messages didn’t require a response, just that he continue to give the people what they wanted.

 

When he felt his audience had got enough of a view of the nightie, he licked his lips and changed to the other hanger. “Or… naughty.”

 

The outfit on the first hanger might not have looked out of place in the average ladies’ nightwear department, but the ‘naughty’ outfit was strictly adults only. “What do you think, darlings?” He murmured, holding the skimpy little bra-thong-garter combination to himself, turning a little to the side to give the best, and most lucrative, view. This outfit was composed almost entirely of lace in a dusky pink and black, and would leave very little to the imagination- when he’d tried it on, his cock hadn’t even stood a chance of staying contained, but he knew that his audience would be the last people to mind _that_.

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 600 tokens >>_

 

Freddie looked twice at the chat to confirm that tip- pretty high for a first time viewer. Not wanting to discourage the poor sucker, Freddie pursed his lips and blew a kiss at the screen. “Thank you i_want_it_all, I suppose that’s a vote for naughty, is it? You know the rules, dears, pick your favourite.”

 

_[youbetcha]: nice_

 

_< < youbetcha tipped 50 tokens >>_

 

_[daddie_dearest]: naughty!!_

 

_< < daddie_dearest tipped 27 tokens >>_

 

_< < winnethepoof tipped 30 tokens >>_

 

_[winnethepoof]: naughty naughty naughty_

 

He let the chat go by itself for a moment, alternating the outfits as the tips and the votes rolled in. Thankfully, i_want_it_all’s enormous starting bid saved him from having to do a quick bit of mental maths to decide the winner, and once his session token total rolled over to five thousand, he waved his hands.

 

“Okay, that’s enough, we have a winner! Looks like I’ll be a naughty boy tonight- or is that just who I am every night?” He giggled into the camera and bit his lip suggestively as he turned around, letting the audience enjoy the view of his ass while he bent over his bed to unhook the various pieces of lingerie. A little wiggle of his followers’ favourite asset had the telltale dings of tips rolling in- accompanied by plenty of messages, no doubt, begging him to hurry up, to finger himself, to let them fuck him- these men were rarely poets, and not helped by the fact that most were probably typing one-handed.

 

Keeping his body turned away from the camera, he glanced back over his shoulders, all plump lips and dark eyes in the soft light, and spoke softly. “Cover your eyes now, darlings, you know how shy I am.”

 

When he’d been in school, a then sixteen year old Freddie had been corralled into a lecture hall along with his classmates to listen to an incredibly boring lecture about business, and the exciting possibilities thereof. He had to wonder if the man who’d seemed intent on literally boring Freddie to tears could ever have envisioned that his solemn words about the importance of branding would ever be put to such a lurid use.

 

Freddie had not gone into this thing blind; just because he’d elected to do this instead of a part time job in a greasy spoon to support himself through university, did not mean he was an idiot. Before he’d created _mr_fahrenheit,_ he’d spent plenty of time scouring his host site and others like it to see exactly what sort of content did well with the kind of men who would willingly part with cash to watch a young guy pretend to be interested in them from the other side of a screen.

 

He’d already known he fell firmly into the ‘twink’ category; both a blessing and a curse as the most popular but also the most crowded market. To make any money, he’d known he’d have to carve out a niche- and make his viewers fall in love with him.

 

The first part had taken work, but it had been a nice little surprise to find out how easily he could wrap these men around his little finger.

 

They liked him coy- sweet, cute, even a little shy. He’d kitted out his room with soft plush blankets in pastel, big cushions and dim lights to match that part of his persona, so that the thumbnail on his feed was always one that evoked a sense of softness, vulnerability. But that could only be a thin veil for what they were all sure lay beneath- an unrepentant slut who lived and breathed sex and debauchery, barely able to contain himself the moment the eyes of his viewers were upon him. It was a delicate balance to strike, but an act that Freddie had quickly become _very_ good at.

 

He hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his briefs and slowly pulled them over the curve of his ass (carefully sculpted by his weekly BootyBlast! class, from which he was _still_ aching) and let them fall to the floor with a little ‘ah!’, as though to be free of them was a blessed relief. A few more tips rolled in, and Freddie didn’t have to look to know that daddie_dearest would have posted yet another request to have the damn things posted to him- and Freddie wasn’t quite that desperate yet, so he was content to ignore it instead of declining once again.

 

The femme thing hadn’t been part of his persona from the moment he’d started; it was a little bit riskier in terms of appeal than the straight up twinky bottom act, but it hadn’t taken long before he found himself having to find a way to work it into just about every session. Himself, Freddie didn’t get it- he preferred men, _blokes_ , the kind of guys with whom hitting on them was a little like playing Russian roulette, because they might be a burly bear that would fuck him into next Tuesday, or a raging homophobe. They also tended not to expect Freddie to top, which was _definitely_ a plus. He had to half wonder sometimes if the sort of men who revelled in having him doll himself up in lipstick and lingerie weren’t the sort who would go on to dutifully fuck their wives afterwards, eyes closed and and his face etched into their imagination.

 

Still, they tipped well enough.

 

“Thank you, darlings- you’re so generous to me. You won’t mind terribly if I interrupt the view, will you?” He twisted at the waist to look back at the camera, dangling the delicate little pink thong from his index finger and grinning wickedly.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: stop teasing_

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 100 tokens >>_

 

Oh, he could tell he was onto a winner with this new entrant to the room- the tokens worked out at about 7p a piece to buy (and 4p to cash out, which Freddie felt was absolute daylight robbery, but most of the other sites were worse) so either this guy was rich, drunk, or stupid. He didn’t really mind which, if he kept this up- tips were strictly non-refundable.

 

He giggled and blew a quick kiss at the camera. “Sorry i_want_it_all, I just can’t help it.”

 

Turning away again, he bent neatly at the waist to step into the panties, and then eased them slowly up his legs, until they were in place, the thin strip of material settled between his cheeks and the band hugging his slip hips. “Do you like them, darlings?” he asked, voice low and heated as he pulled one cheek to the side to give an even better view. The tip notification let him know that that little move was still as popular as ever.

 

Now that he was once again, in the loosest possible terms, covered, he faced the camera again and gave a little wiggle of his hips, and the laugh he gave when he saw his barely-concealed cock bouncing about in the lace was genuine. This, at least, was not an act- he did absolutely love parading about in the most outrageous ensemble he could lay his hands on, and this little number might have to be his most risqué so far.

 

“Let’s see- shall we do the garter next, or this lovely little thing?” He held up the bra by the straps for the camera. “I’m afraid I’m not sure the right size, the girl in Victoria’s Secret seemed _quite_ confused when I asked.”

 

_[tr1xter90]: put it on, love your little tits_

 

_< < tr1xter90 tipped 50 tokens >>_

 

The tit thing was weird, and by far one of the things Freddie enjoyed playing up least, but a necessary evil of playing the femme game for his viewers. He smiled, wide and brilliant, even with his too-many teeth. “Oh, I know you do Trixie- better with or without the whipped cream?”

 

Christ, that had been a mess- _not_ to be repeated, despite frequent requests.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: skip the bra_

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 300 tokens >>_

 

Freddie’s eyes widened a bit- for the new guy to have spent a thousand tokens on him in one night, he had to be a bit of a baller. It seemed a shame to disappoint tr1xter90 after spending so much time working on him, but he’d be an idiot to spurn that kind of money.

 

The rest of the chat didn’t seem quite so enamoured with their new companion, so he’d have to be careful, but with such a big fish wiggling on his hook, Freddie wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to reel him in.

 

“Well alright then, i_want_it_all, I’ll save that one for another day- garter it is.”

 

It was a flimsy little thing really, cheap- probably a good thing that Freddie didn’t have any stockings to clip onto it because he wasn’t sure it would be able to cope, but even so, as he slyly watched himself in the camera, he knew this was no wasted purchase. The belt framed his waist just so, emphasising his skinny frame and the hard-earned curve of his ass. The straps brushed lightly against the tops of his thighs, and Freddie made a note to invest in a better belt and a decent pair of stockings for next time - this look was absolutely on-brand.

 

_[winniethepoof]: so fkin hot_

 

_< < tr1xter90 left the room >>_

 

_< < silverf0xy tipped 25 tokens >>_

 

_[youbetcha]: prefer u naked princess :(_

 

_< < youbetcha tipped 4 tokens >>_

 

_< < letskikit tipped 20 tokens >>_

 

_[daddie_dearest]: slap that cute little ass_

 

_< < daddie_dearest tipped 40 tokens >>_

 

“Like this?” Freddie gave himself a gentle smack, just enough to make a sound for the camera but not to hurt, and grinned.

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 150 tokens >>_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: good boy_

 

“You are so _good_ to me _,_ i_want_it_all! Thank you, lovie.” The session total ticked over to eight thousand- not bloody bad for a Wednesday evening, and a good portion of that was down to his new patron. Freddie surreptitiously glanced at the clock (almost midnight), back to the counter, and decided that it would be a good time to call it a night. The big money would be in the Friday and Saturday night shows- best to leave his punters wanting more.

 

He modelled the garter and thong for the camera for a few more minutes, saying a couple of quick thank yous as more tips came in. He had to say, he did like how it looked- usually Freddie was very careful to keep his camming props completely separate to anything he might use in ‘real life’, as it were, but he could see these making an appearance for some very lucky man in the future. When he was satisfied that the audience had had their fill- or at least, as much as they’d be getting for tonight, he stretched his arms above his head and gave a little yawn.

 

“Well, darlings, I _am_ all ready for bed now, so I suppose I’ll have to love you and leave you. Oh, I know, I know, I’m sorry, just try not to miss me too much, okay? I’ll be back at nine tomorrow, so I’ll see you all there - remember you should never keep a princess waiting,” he added, with another wink, another kiss, as he reached for the mouse.

 

With a click, the video feed went black and the never-ending chat box stopped ticking up his screen; Freddie let out a little sigh and flopped back onto his bed covers. He didn’t usually much past eleven on a school night, but it had been worth it for the late entrance of i_want_it_all- hopefully he’d see that username in the feed again tomorrow.

 

The final total for the evening was a very respectable 8172 tokens, which he gladly cashed out to his PayPal, and resisted the urge to switch straight over to Biba’s website to order himself something pretty and expensive. He’d drag Roger with him to Oxford Street tomorrow, perhaps- he had definitely earned a treat.

 

It only took turning the lights back on to return the ambient filming space back into his bedroom, and any air of sexiness quickly dissipated as Freddie tidied up and got himself ready to _actually_ go to bed. The lacy bits were quickly (but carefully) discarded in favour of a pair of soft, loose pyjama bottoms, a microfibre clothe retrieved to clean and cover his camera lens, and only when that was done did Freddie feel truly alone.

 

From his ensuite, he took a quick snapchat of himself with a mouthful of frothy toothpaste and a wide smile and sent it over to Roger, captioned ‘drinks on me tomorrow’ and a trio of cash emojis, and quickly received a shaky image of neon lights and the dark swell of bodies with thumbs up emblazoned across it.

 

* * *

 

 

Thursday mornings were always Freddie’s favourites; neither he nor his flatmate had any lectures until midday, and who didn’t enjoy a lazy morning of daytime TV with a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea?

 

That morning, the answer was one Roger Taylor, who as currently laid out on the sofa with his arms crossed over his chest and a pair of dark sunglasses firmly affixed to his face. He’d managed to drag himself out of bed but this was as far as he’d got, and the blonde had turned down his bright-eyed flatmate’s offer of a cuppa with a gagging motion. Freddie hadn’t asked again.

 

“I’ll sit on you if you like darling, but otherwise you’ll have to budge up.”

 

“Prick,” came the reply, but Roger lifted his head long enough to let Freddie settle into the seat at the end of the sofa, his head falling back into his lap with a little groan. “I swear, if Dom weren’t such a fuckin’ good shag, I’d say she was a bloke. Bloody woman can _drink_.”

 

“Poor dear,” he murmured, carding his fingers through his friend’s hair with one hand and lazily flicking through the channels with the volume down low. It was all little more than comforting background noise at this time of the morning, as good a nurse for a hangover as any. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

 

“Was pretty late- no way I’m making it to that fuckin’ lecture. Good show?”

 

“Mm, yes, it was. I think Mercury’s got another admirer- _very_ generous for a first-timer. If he keeps it up I might invite him to go on private. I think poor Trixie might have a little meltdown if he has to start sharing, though.”

 

Roger was quiet for only a beat longer than was natural, expression obscured by his sunglasses, but it was enough for Freddie to feel his concern. The camming gig had never been a secret from his flatmate, and Roger, for his part, had stayed true to his word that he wouldn’t judge Freddie for his choice of work, and Freddie loved him for it; as friends went, he could have done far worse. Not everyone would be quite so understanding about the veritable parade of ‘discreetly packaged’ parcels and the nightly noises coming out of Freddie’s room.

 

Not usually the sort to bite his tongue, the careful deliberation and considered words that eventually came did not bode well, but Freddie tried not to think on it too much; he was sure Roger would be much more amenable when his lucrative hobby paid for them to get utterly legless on drink and powder.

 

“You just be careful, Freddie,” he eventually said, “You don’t know what sort of sick fucks are watching you.”

 

“Oh Roger darling,” he laughed, patting his shoulder. “Trust me, I know _exactly_ what sort they are.”

 


	2. guaranteed to blow your mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which a gift is received and appreciated

If the constant, rhythmic tapping of pencil against desk was annoying Professor Anthony as he tried to hold the attention of seventy first year art students to the topic of photography composition, he did not show it. If Freddie were a little more generous, he could probably admit that it had to be a bit of a nightmare; it was a widely accepted trope that students of the arts could be a little arrogant when it came to their own abilities, and Freddie doubted it was a single one of them’s first time picking up a camera. The first year, however, had to serve as an equaliser, bringing everyone to a reasonably even laying field before they began to specialise in the second year, so it made sense to have compulsory modules in all the core areas.

 

It did not, however, make it interesting, and Freddie had had a late night.

 

In the corner of his page, he doodled a little - half-toying with an idea he’d had for the textiles module, but not enough to achieve anything worthwhile - and gave up any semblance of pretending to listen to his lecturer. His thighs were complaining at the treatment they’d had of late- from the antics of last night’s private stream with Trixie and from being sat still for so long. He needed to stretch, and to soak in a nice long bath.

 

Not for a while yet, though. Surely the bloody clock had to be broken for time to be passing this _slowly._

 

He checked his phone, not even really bothering to conceal the fact, and skimmed over a few email notifications- mostly spam and message requests on the cam site, and a notification that he had a package to collect from his PO box- until he came to a kik notification from Trixie, wanting to check that Freddie was wearing the underwear he’d sent him.

 

_[mr_fahrenheit]: of course, darling. but you’ll have to wait until later to see it x_

 

_[tr1xter90]: just a quick pic baby ill send u a tenner_

 

_[mr_fahrenheit]: sorry lovey I cant right now_

 

_[mr_fahrenheit]: save it for the show x_

 

Freddie was not wearing the fucking jockstrap- it felt okay on its own and it was fine on camera, but there was absolutely no way that he was about to subject himself to wearing the damn thing throughout the entire day under his jeans. Trixie wouldn’t know the difference; Freddie was perfectly secure in the knowledge that this particular patron would be quite able to jack off to the lie just as well. He was still trying to figure the guy out, in all honesty- he seemed to be into just about everything and was willing to spend only as much money as it took to keep Freddie doing his private shows. At least he wasn’t some toothless old geezer in his seventies, as confirmed by last night’s session.

 

Trxie showing his face was a good sign, and a bit of a relief in some ways- Freddie’d been a little worried he might have lost that particular revenue stream after he’d logged off the chat that the i_want_it_all guy had effectively hijacked, but it had only taken a few days before things fell back into the normal pace. Freddie wasn’t sure that would have happened if the other guy had kept showing up, but i_want_it_all, after his somewhat explosive entrance to the chat, had yet to make another appearance.

 

It was a little disappointing, but Freddie hadn’t the time to dwell on the particulars of every viewer that entered his room- the average for the last week was twelve hundred-ish viewers per session, which had catapulted his ranking to a very comfortable #23. He only had to glance at his PayPal to see the fruits of his labours were really starting to pay off, so he didn’t mind so much putting in these little extras outside what could strictly be considered ‘work hours’. He tried not to let himself dwell on how draining Trixie was becoming as time went on.

 

He didn’t return to his notes (if one was generous enough to call them that- he’d maybe written a paragraph), instead deftly flicking through his various social media channels, both Freddie and Mercury’s. He didn’t open a picture message from Trixie since he had no doubt it was another dick pic- the guy was definitely far less shy about sharing that than he’d been about his moustached face. Freddie’d long since turned off the feature that saved them all to his camera roll.

 

If there was anything useful to be gleaned from the rest of the lecture, Freddie would never know, since he didn’t look up from his phone again until chairs started to scrape and the room emptied- he slung his bag into the crook of his arm and headed out the door. When he reached the canteen, Roger was already there, well on his way through a hearty lunch that made Freddie full just to look at. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth as he walked over and settled into the chair opposite his friend with a dramatic sigh.

 

“I need a sugar daddy, darling; I’m not cut out for this life.”

 

Roger glanced up at his friend from under thick eyelashes (Freddie would have killed for those, actually; Rog was wasted on heterosexuality, and he’d told him so more than once) but there was none of the desired sympathy in his unimpressed expression. He raised a hand, displaying a bandaged finger. “At least your canvases don’t fuckin’ bite.”

 

Freddie huffed a laugh and popped his gum. “You did chose the degree that means you have to stick your fingers in people’s mouths for a living, dear; you’ve only yourself to blame.”

 

Roger grunted and took another mouthful, which Freddie took as an invitation to continue to talk about his own problems. “I swear to you Rog, Andrews has to be trying to kill me. There’s no way anyone could be that dull without malicious intent, it’s criminal. It’s as though he thinks none of us have ever even seen a camera before.”

 

“If only he knew, eh,” Roger snorted, and Freddie kicked him in faux annoyance, and was halfway to a witty retort then the buzz of his phone interrupted him, and Roger’s eyes were on its screen before the dark haired boy could tuck it back into his pocket. “That one _again-_ thought you were gonna tell him to fuck off?”

 

Freddie quietly moved the phone out of sight, and didn’t reply. He had thought about it, but just couldn’t justify ghosting one of his best customers. He might have a wild moment every now and again as he watched the red notification bubble on the app flicker into double digits where he’d think how nice it would be just to delete kik altogether, but he could never follow through; something stopped him. Money, Fred told himself, but it was a little more like obligation. “It’s fine, he’s just keen,” he replied, and Roger scoffed.

 

“S’your life Fred. Just think about that, yeah? Yours. Not theirs.”

 

——

 

——

 

Since he’d set up his PO box and let his fans know, Freddie had been pleased to receive the occasional gift- the only person who sent him anything with any kind of regularity was Trixie, but since that particular patron hadn’t been gloating about it on kik and nagging for Freddie to collect, he was intrigued to get the discreetly wrapped package open.

 

He considered waiting until the camera was rolling so he could start off with a casual unboxing moment while things were still warming up, but it just wasn’t worth adding in another variable to let things go wrong. There could be anything in the box- the packaging really didn’t give anything away.

 

Sat cross legged on his bed, Freddie slit open a taped edge with a nail file and reached in amongst the polystyrene packing nuts with some trepidation. His fingers closed around another, smaller box, which he withdrew. This was not so subtle; he smiled to himself and turned over the clear plastic box in his hands for a second before he finally opened it up and let its contents slide out onto his pink bed cover.

 

It was not as though Freddie has never seen a vibrator before; he owned a couple, mostly for use in the shows. Someone had obviously spent a little bit of money on this one though- it’s box boasted a range of speed settings, a USB charge port, and the assertion that its metallic, silver body provided both enhanced sensation and easy clean up. It purred agreeably when Freddie clicked it on, building to a low roar that made the bones of his hand buzz. He’d make sure he had a lot of tips before he went up to _that_ setting; it looked like it might _hurt_.

 

Setting the sex toy to one side, he pawed through the parcel to find some kind of a note, a receipt, _anything_ , but aside from the polystyrene, it was empty.

 

Odd. Usually the whole point of sending him a gift seemed to be to get his attention; anonymity was not the norm.

 

He picked up his phone, typed out a text to Trixie, asking if he was responsible, but deleted it; if it wasn’t, he didn’t want to risk putting the guy into a bad mood so close to the show.

 

With airtime fast approaching, Freddie set about readying his room, pulling out a couple of large, fluffy pillows that he set against the end of his bed, artfully draping a throw just so, and setting up his webcam to make sure that nothing that made the room _his_ could be seen in shot. He flipped the switch on a set of pink-tinted fairy lights as he padded into the bathroom and dimmed the overhead light, casting the room into a warm, dusky glow. Once he’d showered, he applied a light mascara, a couple of dots of concealer and the barest hint of blush; he wouldn’t go out anywhere with this kind of make up (though he wasn’t opposed to a touch of eyeliner), but it was barely visible on camera, and his viewers always seemed to respond better when he made the effort. He ran a critical eye over himself in the mirror- his hair was a little fluffier than he’d have liked from drying it too quickly and his teeth bothered him as much as ever, but otherwise he was satisfiably camera-ready.

 

He settled himself on the floor at the foot of his bed and tossed his slippers out of frame, warming his toes on the thick shag pile rug he’d treated himself to the month before. The thing was a bastard to clean, but it was worth it not to have a bruised ass every morning. His toy chest, a large lock box that he’d painted to match the room, was positioned carefully in the corner of the shot, with its key hung on a delicate silver chain around his neck.

 

It paid to start slowly, so as not to peak before he’d drawn a decent number of viewers in, so Freddie’s outfit wasn’t anything particularly risqué as he checked himself out in the camera, checking the angles were right- a tight pair of candy striped shorts showed off his favourite asset, and the addition of a fitted white t-shirt and a pair of cherry red braces made this one of Freddie’s favourite looks, and the audience seemed to like it too. He went barefoot, fond of the impression that it gave that he’d just crawled out of someone else’s bed, but studiously ignored any of the messages from one _footsielou_ , who had helped Freddie decide that he was perfectly fine _not_ to cater to that particular fetish market.

 

The clock on his computer screen read 7.45pm as he tapped in his log in info for his usual haunt, opening up his room but not starting the video just yet, and after a few moments, messages started to trickle in. He scanned the feed for his regulars- _tr1xtser90_ was there, of course, as were _silverf0xy_ and _daddy_dearest_ , neither of whom ever really tipped well, but seemed to make an appearance in most sessions. He sometimes wondered if they were lonely; a lot of the men who watched him probably were.

 

He didn’t tend to engage in the chat before the camera started rolling; it was difficult to keep up with everyone, and he always felt far more under pressure to keep his tone right when he was writing it out- in front of the camera, it was almost natural.

 

The viewer count ticked up. Freddie was up to a couple of hundred with still a few minutes to go, so that was a promising start. He adjusted his position in the viewfinder, vaguely watching the chat, but far more focussed on trying to get his hair to be a little less fucking frizzy.

 

_< < i_want_it_all joined the room >>_

 

“Oh, hello,” Freddie murmured, a wide smile spreading across his face at the appearance of that particular username, and his fingers hovered over the keys for a second before he withdrew. The guy had been a strong tipper on one session- it didn’t warrant any special attention, not yet anyway. As far as Freddie was concerned, _i_want_it_all_ hadn’t watched him in a couple of weeks and if he had, he’d done so without a single message or a tip, so the guy couldn’t be that invested in him. He just hoped he wouldn’t piss off his main source of income this time.

 

He silenced the alarm that buzzed on his phone, sculpted his natural grin into something more lucrative, and clicked BROADCAST.

 

“Hello, darlings! I’ve missed you all so much- have you missed me?” he didn’t look down at the chat, looking right into the lens of his webcam instead and leaning in so that his face took the camera’s focus and lent the tiniest bit of mystery to his surroundings. “Oh, you know I’d be here for you every _moment_ if I could, but unfortunately no man- or boy- can live on love alone.”

 

He giggled and settled back against one of his pillows, letting one hand toy with the exposed zip of his unbuttoned shorts while the other propped him up. “Now I’m sure I needn’t tell most of you what today is- maybe you could help out some of our newer viewers?”

 

_[daddy_dearest]: toy tuesday_

 

_[winniethepoof]: toy tuesyda!_

 

_< < tr1xter90 tipped 40 tokens >>_

 

_[tr1xter90]: private stream baby_

 

Freddie had to force himself not to roll his eyes; he wasn’t about to sack off one of his most popular theme nights just to have Trixie leer at him in the jock strap (which he was not wearing) for half the tokens he was likely to make here tonight. He had to know that; Freddie didn’t know what else to do except ignore his message.

 

“That’s right!” he said, without a dip in his demeanour. “It’s Toy Tuesday, which meeeeans that we get to pick something from my box of goodies right here for me to play with tonight.” His viewer count ticked into four digits, and a flicker of a pleased smile passed over Freddie’s face- he had a good feeling about tonight’s show.

 

“But I can’t unlock the box yet- we don’t want anyone to miss the action, do we! I tell you what lovelies, we’re at… ooh, 1,167 viewers right now. Once we hit two thousand, I’ll show you all the lovely things that you can choose from tonight.”

 

It was a little ambitious, and Freddie didn’t often make such demands of his viewers, but all of the big players did- who was he to argue with success?

 

Slipping one of the braces off his shoulder, he bit his lip. “Let’s have a little fun in the meantime, huh? I’ve been _itching_ to get out of these clothes _all day_ \- where should I start lovies?”

 

_[winniethepoof]: shorts_

 

_[silverf0xy]: show off ur nipples_

 

_[tr1xter90]: all of it baby_

 

_[tr1xter90}: come on private_

 

_< < tr1xter90 tipped 10 tokens >>_

 

_[cuppajo]: braces off first_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: you look great just how you are_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: just your tshirt. leave the rest on._

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 50 tokens >>_

 

Freddie giggled. “I love this look too, _i_want_it_all_! You’ve got good taste.”

 

He slipped out of the t-shirt and pilled his braces back into place, pleased with the way they complimented his skin on screen; he looked warm and sweet and exactly on brand as he stretched himself out for the benefit of his viewers.

 

“Oh darlings, would you look at that- we’re already at one and a half thousand viewers! I hope you’re just telling _all_ of your friends- I would hate for anyone to miss the wonderful show I’ve got planned for all of you.” He was pleased to note that as his viewer count increased, it seemed as though he was poaching more than a couple of viewers from a streamer a few rungs higher than him- he’d expect a bitchy message from _youngdudex_ in the morning, but perhaps Pete oughtn’t have gotten so complacent. Freddie ran a hand absently over his stomach and up to one of his nipples, which he gave a cursory pinch- always a favourite.

 

“You know, I won’t very well be able to play with anything in my special box if I stay all dressed up like this,” he teased, flicking the tab of his zip with one finger and smiling the classic Mercury smile at the screen- all innocent, but _begging_ to be dirty.

 

_[cuppajo]: show us your cock mercury_

 

_[daddy_dearest]: I want to see that cute little ass_

 

_< < daddy_dearest tipped 4 tokens >>_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: not yet_

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 50 tokens >>_

 

_[tr1xter90]: fuck off iwantitall_

 

_[tr1xter90]: let me see you proper baby_

 

_< < tr1xter90 tipped 60 tokens >>_

 

While the bidding war over whether or not Freddie was going to take his clothes off could be a great way to earn some tokens, he wasn’t sure how well it would bode for keeping the rest of his viewers engaged- and they were only a hundred or so away from his goal.

 

“I tell you what, darlings, I think it’s time to step this party up just a little. Alexa, play Mercury’s playlist for me darling.”

 

A bass-heavy song thrummed through his speakers, and Freddie let himself be taken by the music, too far away to be able to read the messages as he ran his hands over his body. He plucked one brace and let it snap back against his skin, quickly rewarded by a number of tip notifications.

 

This always felt natural; had he not found his way into the camming world, he might well have enjoyed a lucrative career in exotic dancing instead. With his eyes closed, his imagination could paint the most vivid of scenes; a stage, all lights trained upon him, a crowd screaming, demanding, _pleading_ for more, and oh, he could be so generous. One by one he slipped the straps of his braces off his shoulders and let the loops dangle, brushing the tops of his thighs as he moved.

 

He didn’t need to see what was being said; the notifications told him that he was keeping his audience quite happy, and he was sure that he would be well over his goal viewer count by the time he was done. Maybe he would even climb a rank. Soon his candy-striped shorts were pooled at his ankles and Freddie quickly threw them out of shot- right into his washing basket, with a practised aim- and leaned right into his webcam with a truly wicked smile, in only a tight cotton thong.

 

_[tr1xter90]: wheres my jock baby_

 

_< < ratatattat tipped 15 tokens >>_

 

_< < daddy_dearest tipped 13 tokens >>_

 

_< < youngdudex tipped 20 tokens >>_

 

_[tr1xter90]: ?????????_

 

_[silverf0xy]: you’re so fucking hot mercury_

 

_< < daddy_dearest tipped 5 tokens >>_

 

_[daddy_dearest]: send me that thong baby girl_

 

_[tr1xter90]: don’t ignore me mercury_

 

_< < youbetcha tipped 25 tokens >>_

 

“I tell you what, daddy_dearest, if you send one in for me, I’ll wear it and send it back, alright? I like these ones!” he teased, hooking his thumbs into the waist band and slowly dragging the cotton over his ass, treating the camera to a full frontal view of his not unimpressive, if underused, cock, already half-hard from the addictive thrill of attention.

 

The messages were coming in so thick and fast that it was a job to keep up, and his viewers weren’t there to watch him read, so he skimmed as best he could, toying with his bottom lip with his teeth. The viewer count was still ticking up- 2222 viewers flashed up and then kept counting higher; Freddie tried not to let himself hope that he might break top twenty tonight.

 

“We did it darlings, look how many of you beautiful people there are now! Oh, lovies, it’s an honour, really it is- I can’t what to see what you pick for me tonight.”

 

As the moment called for it, Freddie knelt before the camera and pulled the toy box in front of him, running his hands as suggestively as he could over the lid. “Now darlings, this might look quite a small little box, but let me assure you that there is _always_ room for one more in Mercury’s treasure chest. If you want to send me anything, all of the details are on my profile- in fact, I actually received a new addition from one _very_ generous person just today. Would you like to see, darlings?”

 

He let the messages and tips flood in as he unhooked the key from his neck and unlocked the box, opening it so that the lid hid the contents from view. A little mystery did wonders to hide the fact that he owned only a few toys, and they’d all already made an appearance, with the exception of that day’s gift.

 

<< _i_want_it_all tipped 100 tokens >>_

 

“Oh my dear, you really _do_ want it all, don’t you love?” he giggled, reaching into the box. “I tell you what, I’ll save that one for last- as regular viewers will know, I’m ever so nice, so I always give you three options to pick from on Toy Tuesday.”

 

_< < winniethepoof tipped 20 tokens >>_

 

_[winniethepoof]: u no what i want bby_

 

“I’m afraid the nipple clamps are out this time, Winnie- I’m still a little sore from last week.” He gave an exaggerated pout, all bottom lip and sad eyes, and gently rubbed one of his nipples with a two fingers. More tips- just about everyone seemed to enjoy that move.

 

“Well, today, I just really have an _itch_ to scratch, darlings, if you know what I mean. So we have option number one,” he set a large, once intimidating dildo moulded from pink rubber and mounted on a suction cup on the rug. “He goes nice and deep, and you all know how much I _love_ a big boy filling me up, don’t you?”

 

He giggled for the camera, coquettish even in his blatant degeneracy, and slid his hand down the length of the rubber once, just to put an idea of size into his viewers heads. “And then of course we have option number two- a bit of an old favourite, so some of you might recognise him.” The second toy stood easily on its wide glass base- a plug that had cost Freddie almost all of his first month’s earning from the site, but that quickly paid its way in popularity. As ever, the tips came flooding in, and Freddie laughed and shook a finger at the camera. “Now, now, not so fast, you’ve not even seen the last option yet! Voting doesn’t start just yet darlings, but if you just want to tip me for being gorgeous, by all means go ahead.”

 

“And finally, option number three- and I’d like to say a big, _big_ thank you to the lovely donor of this pretty little thing,” he blew a kiss at the camera as he picked put the metallic vibrator, holding it between his two index fingers and making sure the focus found it.

 

“So what will it be, darlings? Cast your votes- shall we say the first to a thousand tokens?”

 

They’d risen to his first request, after all- why not push the boat out and see how far he could stretch his audience’s favour?

 

He let the tips come rushing in, tallying them roughly as he lifted each of the toys in turn to the camera, making a note of the bigger tippers; Trixie gave one hundred towards the dildo, but that wasn’t any surprise, and a few newer names gave fifty, nothing particularly _big_ \- maybe his greed had gotten the better of him.

 

“Not long left to vote, darlings!” he prompted, eyeing the viewer count - it was steady, but wouldn’t stay that way if he wasted too much time on this.

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 1000 tokens >>_

_[i_want_it_all]: 3._

 

Freddie had to remind himself not to swear- unless in a sexual context, they seemed not to like it- and his eyes went wide as his total for the session almost doubled in a single tip, and Freddie clapped his hands delightedly.

 

“Well it would seem we have a winner! Thank you ever so, darling- you spoil me! I must admit I’m a quite pleased- I’ve been _dying_ to try this out _all_ day.”

 

_< < tr1xter90 tipped 70 tokens >>_

 

_[tr1xter90]: I want your ass stuffed with that plug on private baby NOW_

 

Christ, it was like Trixie was trying to make a goddamn scene, and Freddie did not know what he expected him to do- he usually seemed to understand that this just wasn’t how this worked. “Oh Trixie, love, I can’t let you steal me away just yet darling- later, okay?” He flashed a wide grin, and hoped it would placate the man, but no reply came and it was only moments before his messages were swallowed up in a sea of lazy grammar and thirst.

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 60 tokens >>_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: start off with the first setting_

 

Freddie forced himself back to the matter at hand and kept his smile in place, picking up the vibrator and pretending to look for the on button, as though he didn’t already know. “This lovely little thing has _five_ settings, darlings, but I’m going to take some very good advice and just start with number one for now- oh!” he exclaimed in faux-surprise as he clicked it on, and an audible buzz filled the room. “Can you hear that? It’s a little loud, isn’t it? Best hope no one’s listening at my door,” he giggled, moving the vibrator closer to the microphone so it could be heard.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: rub it on your cock, Mercury_

 

Other requests for actions came in alongside i_want_it_all’s message, but Freddie couldn’t help but overlook them- it paid to give this particular man what he wanted, particularly since his visits were so few and far between. “Like this?” he asked sweetly, as he moved the buzzing metal object towards his crotch, and let out a surprised, pleased moan when it made contact with his sensitive skin. “Oh _darlings_ , it feels _wonderful_ , mm! I’m ever so sensitive- I won’t last!”

 

_[i_want_it_all]: come, and then you can put it in your ass_

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 300 tokens >>_

 

He wasn’t sure which was the stronger aphrodisiac- the man’s money, his authoritative tone, or the insistent, inescapable sensation against his cock. Between the three, Freddie didn’t have to try all that hard to comply with the demand.

 

“Oh my god, you’re going to _destroy_ me, darling, I’m absolutely _useless_ when I’ve come,” he replied, a touch breathless, as he moved the vibrator along the underside of his cock, using every trick he knew about his own body to rapidly go from half hard to leaking precome onto the toy with every stroke. He let his head tip back, only half listening to the tip counter tick higher and higher as he brought himself hurtling towards the edge at frightening speed. He was lucky; still new, still relatively innocent in comparison to the others- he didn’t have to work all that hard to get himself off.

 

Pressing the metal tip hard into the sensitive seam just below the head of his cock, Freddie allowed himself a wanton and entirely unscripted moan that shattered as he came, streaking sticky white over his hand, the toy, and his carpet, which Freddie’s ass had fallen against hard as his every muscle seemed to turn to jelly. He gasped for air, barely summoning a ragged smile for the camera.

 

His hazel eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocussed, he didn’t even bother trying to read the rapidly strolling chat as he luxuriated in the aftermath and let himself fall back against the cushions.

 

“This,” he raised the vibrator with a weak arm, “is incredible. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to _handle_ the other settings, darlings- I wish I would show you how good that felt. Well, I suppose I sort of did,” he added, with a tired little giggle.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: get it nice and clean baby_

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 500 tokens >>_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: turn it up and give yourself a good fuck_

 

Freddie was very dimly aware that there were other messages coming in, but he didn’t bother to read any of them- i_want_it_all hadn’t steered him wrong so far, and in the time that he’d been too occupied with the vibrator to keep track, his tip counter had doubled. If the rest of his audience realised that he was playing favourites, they didn’t seem to care; a show was a show, after all.

 

He clicked the button on the base of the toy and immediately felt the change in vibration, trailing the tip over his lip before licking the length of it clean of his come, eyes locked on the camera and using every flexible inch of his tongue to its full advantage to get the thing as slick as possible so that he wouldn’t have to waste time on prep. There was no need to fake his hunger; he wanted to feel what the damn thing could do to him given half a chance.

 

The saliva and the already smooth body of the toy made it all too easy for Freddie to reach down between his spread legs and press the vibrator into his hole- he couldn’t bring himself to play coy or to toy with it for the audience, and it slid into him with only the barest trace of resistance. Of course, any ease and subtlety that came with the insertion was completely overruled by the force of the vibrations that seemed to immediately find Freddie’s sweet spot and hum against it. His eyes rolled back, white and mindless in the viewfinder. “Oh holy _fuck.”_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: fuck yourself, mercury. show me how you like it._

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 300 tokens >>_

 

Less than before- his patron had correctly assumed that Freddie did not need any convincing.

 

So soon after coming, the sensation that came from thrusting the little, not even six inch, vibrator in and out of himself was almost overwhelming; he gasped for air, his free hand twisted into the long carpet fibres and he bucked his hips up in a wild, desperate bid for more, although he wasn’t sure he could even take this alone.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: turn it up_

 

With a click, the electronic hum increased in pitch and even Freddie’s moans could not drown it out.

 

_< < i_want_it_all tipped 300 tokens >>_

 

_< < tr1xter90 left the room >>_

 

Freddie didn’t even see the notification. His mouth hung open now and his cock lay fat and heavy between his legs, leaking against his thigh, shaking with the ferocity with which the dark haired boy was now fucking himself.

 

“Can’t feel my fingers,” he moaned, not even sure if the microphone would pick it up.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: come for me once more baby. show me how much you like your present_

 

“I love it, I love my present, god it feels so good.”

 

_[i_want_it_all]: and what do you say when someone gives you a gift, mercury?_

 

“Thank you, oh _god_ thank you so much I love it, god I am so fucking close, oh, my god, _fuck!”_

 

_[i_want_it_all]: that’s thank you ‘sir’, baby_

 

“Thank you sir, thank you thank you thank you sir, oh _god-_ “

 

And he was spent, the world softening to a pink haze as Freddie’s orgasm rocked through him, leaving another mess of come across his taut thigh and taking with it any hope he might have had of finishing the stream in his normal practised manner.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: you’re welcome, mercury._

 

_< < i_want_it_all left the room >>_

 

And with only the barest excuse for a sign off, with his own seed still tacky and wet on his skin, so did Freddie.

 

It was far too early, but there was no way in hell he could stand up to another hour of this; he’d already far surpassed his session goal, and climbed into the twenties on the leaderboard, but quite honestly, Freddie didn’t have it in him to give a single fuck about any fo that. When he had his breath and wits about him enough to type, he opened his DMs, and sent a message.

 

_[mr_fahrenheit]: thanks for the present, sir._

 

_[i_want_it_all]: you’re welcome. you can show me how you like the rest of the settings on private tomorrow._

 

_[mr_fahrenheit]: can’t wait xx_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who has come back to this story after such a long wait! I hope that this chapter has been worth your while. I've had a brilliant time writing this and I'm desperate for it to be out in the world, with hopefully a further chapter to follow sooner rather than later.
> 
> I hope you enjoy seeing some familiar faces in the usernames!


	3. an invitation you can't decline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie holds a private session for his new sponsor, and makes a decision.

It was quite an easily made mistake to ascribe undue meaning to a private show; Freddie’s viewers did it all the time, and he had to admit to some hand in keeping up the deception. People tended to tip better when they thought they had a real connection with him.

 

Some of them had to realise that there was just no way that he could have anything more than a transactional relationship with the dozen or so guys that had been granted the privilege, but he was a good actor, he knew how to make a guy feel special- or, at least special enough that he’d part with a little cash just to watch him smile. Well, usually the price bought a little more than that.

 

The thing was, private shows weren’t _exciting_ for Freddie- frankly, they were just a blessed relief from the pressure of managing the expectations of hundreds or even thousands of viewers in a live show. And yet he could not keep his heart from beating out a nervous rhythm as he watched the clock in his final class of the day tick down towards the time he’d arranged with i_want_it_all, his stomach knotted and mind on everything but the life drawing he was working on.

 

His pencil strokes were light and non-committal, creating a hazy, faceless silhouette that Freddie did _not_ expect to make his portfolio; instead of trying to capture the model, he couldn’t help but wonder what his generous patron would look like tonight. Would he even show his face? Some did, but just as many shied away, though Freddie wasn’t completely sure why; they were both party to this seedy act.

 

He liked a strong jaw- strong features in general, really, and he’d never let himself go with a guy that was shorter than him. There was something unquantifiable and just _good_ about feeling dainty and small with someone who could manhandle him, and although there was a screen and an unknown number of miles between them, he found it did help if there was _some_ attraction there. It made it a little more enjoyable, at least, and not having to put on an act of attraction allowed him to focus his efforts better elsewhere.

 

“Mr Bulsara, have you even looked at our model once?”

 

The clipped reprimand from just behind him made Freddie flinch, his pencil dragging hard across the page, enough to buckle its 200 gsm surface and rule out any possibility he’d be getting credit for the lesson. Christ, he was on _edge_.

 

“Sorry, just, er- I’ll start it over,” he murmured, flipping to a new page as the professor strode away from his workstation and made a motion to the model at the front, who picked up his robe.

 

“Don’t bother yourself, Mr Bulsara; it won’t change your mark. I expect better participation on Monday, from all of you.”

 

No further dismissal needed, the white-noise of pencil on paper was quickly replaced with scraping chairs and relieved discussions of weekend plans as the class packed their materials away. Freddie gathered his things up quickly and stole away before any of his usual cronies could beg him out to the pub- his nerves were begging for a glass of wine, but the beckon of the night ahead had much stronger an allure.

 

——

 

_[mr_fahrenheit]: what would you like me to wear x_

 

It wasn’t about indulgence; Freddie had been agonising over his wardrobe for the hour and a half since he’d got home, and time was running out. He didn’t have a good read yet on i_want_it_all - it was clear the man had a dominant streak, perhaps even a touch of possessiveness, but it was difficult to gauge much more from a few tips and messages over two cam shows.

 

He supposed he could surmise he had expensive taste; the vibrator couldn’t have come cheap. So far it was the only guaranteed part of the planned show, and lay half-buried in his rug, in front of the monitor.

 

Freddie’s phone was stubbornly silent for a long moment- enough time for the dark-haired man to consider and wretchedly abandon an entire ensemble. He was making a mess; thankfully it was angled off-camera tonight.

 

Finally, his phone buzzed.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: something that makes you blush_

 

Well that was no fucking help at all; he was wound tight enough that the thought of anything he could wear in front of the camera tonight, in front of _this_ camera, _this_ night, was enough to flush his whole body pink. He groaned, and tapped a quick message back.

 

_[mr_fahrenheit]: don’t you want to help me pick? x_

 

A picture of his open wardrobe followed, a wide array of outfits hanging flush against one another like the pages of a book. It wasn’t a particularly good representation, but it did not seem to matter; the reply was immediate, and curt.

 

_[i_want_it_all]: no._

 

_[i_want_it_all]: I want to see what you think I want_

 

“Bastard,” Freddie cursed, tossing his phone down. He pulled a few outfits out of the wardrobe and laid them out on his bed for appraisal; the thong and garter had done well for him the first time that i_want_it_all had watched him, but he wasn’t sure if that was a safe bet, or if he’d risk looking unimaginative. Normal clothes were almost out of the question- nothing that covered his whole ass was going to make him blush.

 

He checked a sheer pair of stockings for ladders and set them to one side when he found them intact. A safe bet, he figured, and he liked the way they made his legs look.

 

There had to be more pairs of sexy panties in Freddie’s drawer than in most women’s, and it wasn’t helping his decision. He’d shortlisted a few pieces and racked his brain to come up with some kind of hint as to what would do it for i_want_it_all. Usually by this point he’d have had more interaction, something to go off of, but he was almost entirely in the dark. Perhaps that was the point.

 

All to aware to time ticking down, he snatched up a frilly Brazilian in black and tugged them up to his waist without any of the production he’d have put on for an audience, until the lace was skimming the tops of his ass cheeks and making no attempt to cover the bottom. He perched on the end of his bed and made quick work of the stockings, legs carefully shaved and moisturised for this very event. He curled his toes into the carpet as he looked at his monitor, to the private room that was ready and waiting for him, a now familiar username already online.

 

i_want_it_all did not strike Freddie as a patient man.

 

It was a little early, but he felt late- the guy hadn’t even typed a message yet but his presence was enough to make Freddie feel _watched_. The other man’s feed was an even black, mirroring Freddie’s face back to him. He checked his hair, reapplied his lip balm, took a deep, measured breath, and composed his face into an easy smile as he knelt before the screen.

 

BROADCAST

 

“Hope you don’t mind that I’m early darling! You’ve had me in knots all day, looking forward to this.”

 

His heart was hammering, eyes fixed upon the pitch video feed for some sign of life, but for all Freddie’s hurry, the other participant would not, apparently, be rushed. The silence stretched for a moment too long, and Freddie furrowed his brow. “Are you there, darling? Is the video working?”

“It’s working.”

 

If the mediocre quality of Freddie’s speakers took anything away from the tone and gravitas of i_want_it_all’s voice, it was a drop in the ocean; Freddie’s breath caught in his throat. The voice was deep, but smooth- carefully controlled as he might have expected and quite impossible to read, at least in so few words. His patron did not give the impression of a desperate and desolate man who’d been beguiled by Mercury’s charm, but a man who never questioned his own desires. Who did not need to.

 

Freddie was most definitely getting ahead of himself.

 

He recovered quickly, grinning into the camera. “Oh darling, thank goodness, I thought for a moment I’d gotten all dressed up for nothing. Do you like it?” He fluttered his eyes at the camera, checking the angles out of the corner of his eye to ensure that he was providing a suitable view; there wasn’t much else to look at with the other video feed still obstinately black.

 

“I do.”

 

i_want_it_all’s voice did not sound shy, or nervous, so Freddie could not excuse his sparse replies with first chat jitters. He was sure that if the man wanted to say more, he absolutely would, but he was quite content to let Freddie carry the conversation- perhaps to watch him squirm, but Freddie was far too good at this to give his audience that little satisfaction.

 

“Well, I’m glad, I did pick it out specially for you dear. And don’t worry, I didn’t forget your little present either,” he added, plucking the vibrator from the carpet deftly and holding it between two fingers. “Though I should warn you that this little get up was awfully expensive, I’d hate to ruin it by getting too excited.”

 

He winked at the camera; he hoped i_want_it_all realised that he had been paying attention.

 

“It sounds like you picked out the wrong outfit then, Mercury.”

 

Freddie grinned and ran his hands up his hips, showing off the layers of lace for his benefactor with his chin ducked and his eyes downcast- the coquettish tart. “You’ve been so generous to me, darling, I thought you deserved something in return.” His ears were straining for anything he could pick up from i_want_it_all’s microphone, but either the man had muted himself, or he was watching with the intensity that his voice suggested. Usually he might hear a tell-tale unzipping, or a rustle of fabric, to confirm that he was giving a private viewer what they wanted, and not having that assurance made Freddie want to work harder. To peel back the mask.

 

“I’m not sure what to call you, darling- i_want_it_all is a little bit of a mouthful, don’t you think? Perhaps you could tell me your-”

 

“Sir. You can just call me sir.”

 

“Alright then, _sir,_ ” he replied, grin edged with wickedness. “I must admit I’m quite excited to see what else this little thing can do to me. Maybe we could start there,” he suggested, running the smooth metallic tip over his bottom lip.

 

Silence. “Or we could do something else…?”

 

“I’m not in any rush, Mercury.”

 

_Well_. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something indescribably _good_ about hearing his pseudonym in his patron’s mouth; a reckless part of him wished he could hear his real name spoken in that same commanding tone. “Oh? Then what would you suggest, darling? Your wish is my command,” he set the vibrator down delicately beside him and sat back on his heels, expectantly.

 

“Why don’t you start by turning around. I want the full view.”

 

As gracefully as he could, Freddie turned himself around on the carpet and looked back over his shoulder, checking that the view in the camera was acceptable. The curve of his ass peeked from beneath the lace frills, smooth and supple; Freddie ran his hand over one cheek, taking his time. “How’s this?”

 

“Mm. Good. I assume you have lube?”

 

Freddie laughed. “I have a little of just about everything, darling- of course. Let me go and get it.”

 

He took one last look at the camera and bent forward, letting his back arch and dragging out his movements just so as he crawled over to his toy box, still in sight of the webcam. He took his time, picking out a few little bottles (mostly free samples that came with larger toy orders) and considering them before returning with a pink one that he held out for the camera. “It’s candyfloss flavour,” he informed him, “my favourite.”

 

“You won’t be eating it.”

 

And there it was - an edge of something in his viewer’s tone, more akin to exasperation than to amusement, but more than the flat dominance that he’d maintained so far. Freddie grinned wide, showing more teeth than he would be comfortable with consciously, and flipped the cap open with his thumb. “I know. I just wanted to let you know what I’ll taste like.”

 

“Tease. Go on, you know what to do.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Eyes sparkling, he turned so that i_want_it_all could see what he was doing, tugged his panties down over his hips-

 

“No. I didn’t tell you to take them off; keep them on.”

 

Freddie obediently set the lace back into place. “You really _do_ like this outfit, hm darling? You know, most people prefer me naked.”

 

“Don’t talk about them. I’m not them. Get to it, Mercury.”

 

His mistake, really. None of his private viewers loved being reminded that it wasn’t to them alone that he belonged; independence was apparently not quite as sexy as the illusion of possession. He squirted a little of the clear liquid onto two fingers, set the bottle aside, and pulled the panties to one side to expose himself. With gentle, circular strokes, he slicked his entrance carefully, glancing back over his shoulder at the screen. “Like this?”

 

“Keep going.”

 

Was that a little strain he could hear? Real or imagined, Freddie let it spur him on, turning his head to let his patron watch him moan a little in profile as he pressed into himself, holding his cheek spread so that i_want_it_all could get a full view of the way his tight entrance accepted the intrusion. Two fingers wasn’t enough to give him much pleasure, but his racing mind, painting a wishful picture of his patron with every stroke, gave him plenty of encouragement.

 

He snatched up the bottle again and squirted more lube onto his fingers, pushing in deeper, curling his knuckles, twisting and scissoring. i_want_it_all had been right; this, he knew. Freddie let himself lean into the moment, head tipping back, breathy sounds from his mouth with each thrust. His fingers were no cock, he wasn’t going to see stars, but he had an artist’s dexterity and he knew all of his own pleasures. The moans he elicited from himself weren’t fake.

 

“That’s it. Deeper now- no, stay at just two. I want you to still be tight.”

 

“Who’s the tease now?” he replied, breathless as he complied.

 

A low chuckle buzzed through his speakers and Freddie groaned; god he wanted to hear more of that.

 

“Only a little more, Mercury, and then you can use your toy.”

 

The lace front of the panties was already straining with his arousal; he was sure it wouldn’t even take the slightest touch of the vibrator to send him over the edge. He didn’t think it would even need to be _on_. “I think I’m ready now, darling,” he replied tightly, dragging his tongue over dry lips.

 

“I’ll say when you’re ready. Pick it up and give it a suck.”

 

It was a bit small for Freddie to give much of a performance- let’s be real, there was no way he’d ever let a cock that small anywhere near his mouth, so he didn’t exactly have much experience in the area. Still, he gave it a lick, the metal cool on his tongue, and closed his lips around it, making sure to look right into the camera as he did so.

 

“I didn’t say you could stop fingering yourself- have you forgotten how to do as you’re told, Mercury?”

 

“No, no,” he murmured around the obstruction, picking the pace with his fingers back up. It took all of his focus to keep on sucking, keep on fingering, all while making sure that i_want_it_all had the view he was paying for. It wasn’t long before he was breathless, cock standing out hard enough to pull his panties tight, soiling them with pre. _Shit-_

 

“Alright, that’s enough, you can stop. Turn it on.”

 

Breathing hard, Freddie withdrew his fingers and clicked the vibrator on. Instead of asking what exactly i_want_it_all intended him to do with it, he took a moment to catch his breath; he really didn’t need to go fishing for orders.

 

“Good boy. Now turn it up, fourth speed.”

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” he breathed as the thing turned from a comfortable and enticing sensation to something akin to a power drill. His hand was vibrating along with it.

 

“Now, sit and face me. Yes, good, and put it in- nice and slowly… there. How does it feel?”

 

Words failed him. Freddie mouthed helplessly for a second before he could muster a, “Amazing. Fuck. Sir. I can’t-”

 

“That’s okay baby, you don’t need to speak unless I ask you a question. Get it pressed against your sweet spot, that’s it. Now I want you to stroke your cock, and do not stop until I say you can. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes!” It was more whimper than word but that obviously wasn’t a problem for his patron- finally, though he was too awash in sensation to fully comprehend it, he heard the snick of a zipper being pulled down and a low groan from the speaker.

 

 

“Good boy, Mercury.” The voice was beginning to fray around the edges, though Freddie would come undone far before him; he was already almost there, and it took less than a minute of stroking his weeping cock before he’d spurted all over his hand and the rug.

 

The order did not come to stop though, so he didn’t. Freddie let himself fall back against the pillows at the foot of his bed and kept up the fractured strokes against his oversensitive skin, unable and unwilling to contain his moans. If his noises attracted the attention and consternation of his flatmate, he’d deal with it when his prostate wasn’t under such intense assault.

 

“I can’t take any more,” he breathed, after what felt like _hours_ , though there was no way it could be more than a few minutes. His cock was pink and inflamed with overstimulation, each stroke too much, too much, and yet he felt compelled to continue- else to beg for release. “ _Please_ , sir.”

 

i_want_it_all had lost a good deal of his composure too, openly breathing into the mic, the sound coming through so clear it was as though he was panting into Freddie’s ear, as though it was his hand that would let him find no peace.

 

God, wouldn’t that be something.

 

“No. Not yet. Carry on. Turn it, all the way up.”

 

How could he? His pleasure was white hot now, burning through him like a fever. And yet it was nothing compared to what came of complying; he was a supernova- blind, rapturous, unmade. His come splattered his palm again, hot and slick against his cock. “Please, please.” The word itself was coming apart, only a syllable but his tongue could not wind around it, around anything; from Freddie’s lips came moans and and whimpers and sobs. Nothing more. He had nothing more.

 

“I’m close baby, so close. You can stop when I come. Say my name.”

 

“ _Sir-_ ”

 

“No, it’s Brian- _say it_.”

 

“Brian, Brian, _Brian,_ I can’t- _please_ Brian-”

 

He was cut off by a guttural moan, a crash that sounded like something breaking, and his own plaintive third orgasm. Boneless and exhausted, his hand stilled and fell against his stockinged thigh, and Freddie did not move until there was a sign of life on the other end of the feed.

 

i_want_it_all cleared his throat, and sighed deeply into his microphone. “That’s enough for tonight. I’ll see you, Mercury.”

 

If Freddie had had the strength to reply, it wouldn’t have mattered, because the feed went dead a heartbeat later, while he was still trying to regain some semblance of a normal breathing pattern. He slipped the vibrator out of himself and flopped fully onto the shagpile rug, and he did not move for a long time.

 

 

***

 

“Oh _Jesus_ , Freddie, that’s fucking vile!”

 

It had come to Freddie’s attention that he’d fallen asleep, and apparently missing four calls from your worried flatmate was justification enough in Roger’s eyes to burst into his room when his knocks went unanswered. Considering the nature of his side hustle, he really thought that Roger only had himself to blame.

 

“Oh my god, close your bloody eyes then!” he snapped back, pulling himself from sated and sleepy to embarrassed and pissed off in the blink of an eye, and grabbed blindly for a blanket or _something_ to cover himself.

 

Obviously, Roger had seen him naked before; neither of them were prudes and Freddie had a penchant for wandering about the flat in questionable states of dress, particularly after a couple of vodkas. However, there was a vast difference between a bit of casual, friendly nudity, and finding your friend asleep in a veritable puddle of their own come, with a sex toy still buzzing stubbornly between their thighs. An impressive battery life, all things considered, but rather part of the problem.

 

“Answer your fucking phone next time, I thought something had happened, you dumb bloody cunt,” Roger raged as he tore himself out of the room, but continued to shout from down the hall. It was a small flat, the sound carried easily. “Is that your new fucking _niche_ now, Fred, fucking yourself until you bloody pass out? _Jesus._ ”

 

“Alright, alright, I’m _fine_ , Rog, I told you I had a session tonight- you needn’t have bloody worried!”

 

He shouted to be heard over the running water as he filled the sink- christ, he really was a mess, and he’d let it _dry_ too. Freddie grimaced, and got to work scrubbing himself clean.

 

The sound of the tap didn’t mask the noises from the kitchen- crashing and bangs like Roger was pulling out every damn thing they owned, most of while was like new since neither of them could cook a bloody thing, and his flatmate huffing about. “And you say _I’m_ the drama queen!” he sniped, embarrassed enough to want to pick a fight.

 

“Fuck you!”

 

“Fuck _you_!”

 

***

 

“Look, Rog, I _am_ sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

 

He opened the ring pull of a can of Heinekin and handed it to Roger, whose face still looked like thunder, but he accepted none the less. He took a long swig, sighed, and finally looked back to Freddie. “It’s not that, Fred, you know I don’t give a shit about that- it’s fine. But it’s every bloody night Freddie, and one day it ain’t gonna be enough for one of these guys.” He swallowed, and restlessly pushed his blond hair back from his face. It was obvious that this had been sitting with Roger for a while now.

 

“It’s not like they couldn’t find you if they wanted to. Your face is all over it, wouldn’t be hard to find your name. Where you live- where _we_ live. I don’t want to come back and-”

 

He cut himself off, to Freddie’s relief. Fighting with Roger was one thing; he didn’t mind a little butting of heads every now and again- if anything, it stopped the both of them from getting bored. They always patched it up in no time, anyway. But this- it would be easier if he stayed angry.

 

“I’m careful, Rog, I promise. I think I must have stricter privacy settings than her Royal bloody Highness. And no one’s looking for me- I swear to you it isn’t like that. It’s all a bit of a fantasy for them- none of them would ever have the balls to even _talk_ to me without the camera between us.”

 

“What about that Trixie cunt? And don’t say he’s fine Freddie, I know he’s been harassing you- _yes_ , that is what it bloody is. He can’t be spending that much on you to put up with all that bullshit, Fred.”

 

Freddie considered this, and took a sip of his vodka tonic. “You know what, darling, if it’d make you feel better-”

 

“Don’t make this about me, dickhead.”

 

“Alright, alright, you’re right- it’s for me. I’ll cut him off; he’s been getting far too clingy lately anyway. Look,” Freddie pulled his phone out of the pocket of his silk bathrobe, made a couple of swipes, and hit ‘BLOCK’ with the phone turned to Roger. “Done. No more of that.”

 

Roger nodded, mouth still tight, but apparently ready to let the matter lie. “Right. Well, next round’ll be on me, I guess.”

 

“I think I’ll take you up on that, darling.”

 

Or perhaps not; an email notification flashed across his screen letting him know that his PayPal had a received a new deposit, and it confirmed that mr i_want_it_all- _Brian_ \- wasn’t about to let him go hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took such a long time guys, I swear that I think about this story all the time but this chapter was a tricky little bastard. I make no promises that the next one will be any better, only the assurance that I'm incredibly invested in this fic and can't wait to take you all along for the ride. 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments, they really do spur me on! Not a hint, but I really do appreciate the time you've taken to let me know your thoughts.
> 
> 'til next time!


	4. to avoid complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's greedy to live two lives

Freddie was no gardener. When he and Roger had first moved into the flat he’d entertained a fantasy of filling the place with greenery so that it would always feel fresh and vibrant and cared for, but had neglected to think about the actual process of _caring for_ the plants. He could never remember when he’d last watered them, and it didn’t take long for their recycling bin to become a graveyard for all the empty plastic pots they eventually left behind. It was probably just as well they couldn’t afford a place with a garden.

 

The point was, he didn’t know much about _weeding_ , until the moment that he blocked Trixie.

 

Once something as insidious and ubiquitous as Trixie took root, they became very difficult to get rid of, it turned out. Freddie hadn’t realise how deeply Trixie had entrenched himself in his life- or perhaps he had, but had been able to turn a blind eye to it while things were tolerable.

 

He was getting sick of seeing that familiar username pop up every single time he had a new notification. True to his word, Freddie had blocked him from Mercury’s kik, instagram, twitter, and the of course the stream, and he hadn’t even _remembered_ that he’d once secured the tumblr URL mr_fahrenheit until he had an email telling him he had four new asks in his inbox. He blocked him there too.

 

He considered whether he should maybe just reply to Trixie, tell him what was going on and why, but he didn’t have the emotional strength to try to have a civil discussion about it. What did Trixie want him to say? ‘ _Sorry but you’re possessive and creepy and i could afford to lose you so i did_ ’. That was the truth of it, but he couldn’t imagine it would go down well.

 

Each message he received was deleted, unread, and Freddie tried to turn his mind away from the spurned man. Actually, he was surprised how easy it was- even without the constant distraction of Mercury streams and his degree, he had Brian to keep him occupied.

 

A week after their private stream, the man hadn’t asked for another go, but that didn’t appear to be for lack of interest in Freddie; they’d been texting back and forth near constantly, and though Freddie still had no more concrete information about the man than his name, it felt almost as if he was getting to know him.

 

He didn’t know what Brian did for a job, but their schedules seemed to line up fairly well- lunch breaks, early evenings, late evenings. He’d usually even get a quick text in the morning now, since he had admitted to usually skipping breakfast, reminding him to eat something before he got on with his day. It was oddly sweet.

 

This morning was no different, but whatever Brian’s theory about slow-release energy, Freddie’ nutritious single apple breakfast had not set him up for the day. Last night’s stream had run later than usual and frankly it was a miracle that Freddie had made it into his first lecture.

 

_[mercury]: your apple did nothing_ 😴

 

_[brian]: i told you to go to bed earlier_

 

_[mercury]: wheres my sympathy?? i thought you liked me_

 

_[brian]: you know i do. take tonight off mercury, you need it_

 

_[mercury]: sneaky sneaky trying to get me all to yourself_

 

_[brian]: that’s not it._

 

Freddie turned his phone face down on his desk, not quite sure how to reply, cheeks a little flushed. Because for fuck’s sake, he _believed_ him, and Freddie knew he could not afford to be that bloody gullible in his line of work. Brian was a refreshing change of pace from Trixie, but while not every single one of his messages was some kind of sexual trap, Freddie had to remind himself that he was still just one of the guys from the stream. Sure, his care for Mercury might be real, but Mercury was not. Brian didn’t know the first thing about who _Freddie_ was.

 

He’d let Trixie blur the boundary more than he ever should have; it was a mistake from which he needed to _learn_.

 

However, if learning meant teaching himself not to check his phone every four seconds for a new message from Brian, Freddie had a long way to go. His pulse jumped when a notification popped across his screen, but the disappointment was immediate when he saw that it was just an email from his Photography professor, advising of a guest lecturer in the next period. Freddie only read the subject line, and closed out of his university email, ignoring the app’s angry ’97’ notification bubble.

 

_[mercury]: we can private later anyway if you want x_

 

Was that desperate? He’d found himself missing the man’s voice, the surety of it. His texts had the same tone, but it wasn’t the same, nor was it as gratifying. Sure, he could get himself off on a livestream, often more than once, but that wasn’t for him. Under Brian’s direction, taking orders from that voice, it felt far more mutual.

 

_[brian]: we’ll see. text when you’re home. I’ve got work._

 

_[mercury]: see you tonight :p_

 

He grinned to himself and tucked his phone into his pocket; with something to look forward to tonight and the clear implication that he’d hear no more from Brian before then, he supposed he should at least try to get something out of the class whose tuition charges had put him into debt.

 

By the time class had ended, Freddie’s notes were composed of some actual words, instead of their usual doodles, and he was beginning to feel a little more with it. Photography was easily one of his favourite subjects, and the heavy DSLR camera that was now slung around his neck had been the first big purchase he’d allowed himself with the _mr_fahrenheit_ money. Sure, the lectures could be painfully boring at times, but some of it had to be sinking in; Professor Anthony always seemed to be happy with his work, and his instagram likes were stacking up. Not quite to the level of Mercury’s profile, sure, but he didn’t mind so much; he was _proud_ of the things he posted to his personal.

 

He settled into a desk in the middle of the lecture hall, the room already half-filled, and glanced down towards the podium. Now, it had to be said that unless his professors were attractive, Freddie did not spend very much time looking right at them. Anthony, a man in his early sixties, could have had a sugar daddy vibe in the right light, but Freddie was fairly sure the man had a wife and kids, so he’d never taken all that much interest. He was, however, quite sure that their lecturer today was _not_ the balding Professor Anthony.

 

Freddie considered his hair long if it started to creep beyond his ear lobes, but perhaps he would have to re-evaluate that assessment, because this man had more hair than seemed possible for a single human head. The _amount_ he must have to spend on conditioner alone didn’t bear thinking about with those curls. Freddie couldn’t help but stare as the man finished fiddling with the projector and straightened, drawing himself up to a height that immediately piqued Freddie’s interest, and strode back over to the laptop. Christ, the man’s _legs_ \- they seemed to make up more of him than could possibly be _normal._

 

Young, too. Older than Freddie, certainly, but he estimated he had to be near the end of his twenties; his dress was casual, more TA than professor. A PhD student maybe? Freddie pulled out his phone to try to retrieve the deleted email from earlier, his head down when the man cleared his throat and addressed the lecture hall.

 

“Right then. I hope everyone has come prepared for a bit of a change of focus for today. I believe I know some of you from the Astronomy society, and those that do will know that the art school is not my usual haunt. John’s very keen that you all have a good theoretical understanding of photography- we know you can all point a camera, but there’s a lot more to it than just that. So today, we’ll be discussing the science behind photography- more specifically, the physics. I’m Dr May, and I’m a researcher in the Physics department, so if by the end of this I’ve seduced you to the dark side, there’s always room for more in the sciences building. Before I get started, can anyone tell me about the Law of Reciprocity?”

 

Freddie certainly could not, and if someone had told him this lecture would be about the bloody _physics of photography_ , he’d have skipped it, but he’d snapped to attention the moment he’d heard Dr May speak. He’d a good memory, and he’d been dreaming about that voice.

 

But surely not- voices were not fingerprints, and there had to be plenty of people who sounded alike, particularly when you factored in the interference of a streamed connection and a laptop microphone. He raked the man from the mass of curls that haloed his head, down to his- god, was he wearing fucking _clogs_?!

 

Otherwise, he looked ordinary- actually, all things considered, he looked exactly as eccentric as someone who would work in the Physics department. Not at all like some seedy loner that would lurk around a camboy live stream- he was being stupid, obviously had spent far too much time thinking about _i_want_it_all_ over the last few days, and now he was overlaying the man onto any semi-attractive person that crossed his path.

 

But _fuck,_ Dr May did sound familiar. Without a hope in hell of understanding what the man was talking about anyway, Freddie could do nothing but listen, pen not even in his hand, _staring_. No matter who he was, the man was strangely attractive, even with his mad hair- or perhaps he was just tall. Freddie was always weak for a man who towered over him. He was far enough back that he didn’t expect the lecturer could easily tell that he wasn’t making any notes, or that his eyes were on him rather than the carefully prepared presentation, so Freddie didn’t worry about getting caught gawking.

 

How big were this guy’s _hands_? He used them extensively as he tried to illustrate whatever point had been lost on Freddie, and his fingers looked as though they could span octaves, long and slender and dextrous. He wondered if he actually played piano- he wondered if they matched his cock. _Christ_. If there was any mercy in the world, Brian would agree to stream with him later; evidently Freddie needed to blow off a little steam.

 

He’d have to tell Roger later; he’d get a good laugh out of Freddie getting this worked up over such an indelible _nerd_.

 

Right, _right._ He had to find some kind of a focus, because he’d already had to cross his legs and his own cock didn’t seem to be getting the message that now was _not_ a good fucking time. He snatched up his pen and deftly copied the diagram from the screen, tearing his eyes away from Dr May. Not a clue what it was supposed to be illustrating, of course, but it was at least a momentary distraction from his runaway train of thought.

 

He jotted down ‘diffraction limit’, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean, and hoped to God that Prof. Anthony wouldn’t put any of this in the final.

 

Now that he had his pen in hand, it took no small amount of restraint not to start to sketch Dr May- and Freddie only found it when he realised he’d started to doodle a pattern that closely resembled the man’s cascade of curls. He bet that they felt wonderful to touch, but looked as though they’d swallow his hand if he tried to run it through them. That was okay though, Freddie preferred when his partners played with _his_ hair. He was sure Dr May’s long fingers could do that quite well.

 

He crossed his legs tighter, and bit his lip. _Fuck_.

 

By some miracle, Freddie made it all the way to the end of the lecture without any unfortunate accident, and he found that if he actually tried to focus on the words of the lecture, it didn’t take long for his erection to give up the ghost. There was absolutely _nothing_ sexy about the Schwarzschild effect, no matter how much he enjoyed Dr May’s lovely voice. He forced himself to look at the projector screen, rather than the lecturer, until they reached the final slide- _Q &A_, written in white on a navy background. The girl next to Freddie raised her hand.

 

“Dr May, are we still able to join the Astronomy society this term?”

 

“Of course, just come and see me after the lecture and I’ll- _uh_.”

 

He’d looked, and he ought to have known not to be so damn stupid; Dr May paused, mid-reply, as he scanned across the row and their eyes met, caught, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He had never been given the privilege of looking Brian in the eye, but _he_ had, _he_ knew what Freddie looked like, _he_ recognised him now.

 

There was no mistaking the shock on the man’s face, though it remained but for a moment before professionalism took over, and he finished his answer to the girl. Freddie didn’t hear it; he could hear nothing over the pounding of his pulse in his ears, his face flooded with heat and shame and _fear_. Dr May had torn his eyes away but he’d seen him- he’d _known_ him, and Freddie knew full well it was not because he’d ever set foot in the sciences buildings. He had looked Freddie in the eye, and he’d seen Mercury.

 

Adrenaline urged him to his feet; he didn’t know if he’d even grabbed all of his things or made any excuse for his sudden departure, thoughts blinkered to _get out get out get out_ until he’d driven the bolt home on a bathroom stall and flattened himself against the door. Fucking hell, he ought to have left the moment he’d recognised Brian’s voice- he’d _known,_ but he’d convinced himself not to trust his better judgement, and now, now he was exposed. Even if Brian didn’t say a word to another _soul_ , he knew who he was, what he did away from the camera, his bloody _name_ if he cared to find out.

 

He couldn’t afford this slip; he didn’t have the time or the energy or the fucking support honestly to have another stalker- Trixie had been bad enough, but at least he’d never found him. He couldn’t exactly block a fucking person from his actual life. Hands shaking, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Roger, ready to beg and barter what ever he needed to to just get a ride home, but didn’t even get to open the messenger app before a new notification came in.

 

_[Brian]: that was you, wasn’t it_

 

Freddie made a strangled little sound and slammed the phone down on the cistern, pushing his fingers into his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. _Hold it together_. He couldn’t go to pieces like this- he needed to get home. He’d be able to think there. Sort this out. Somehow.

 

Trying valiantly not to look at the little red (3) on kik, he text Roger.

 

_[freddie]: please come get me im freaking out_

 

_[freddie]: like now rog_

 

_[freddie]: i really really need you to take me home_

 

_[roger]: wtf whats going on fred????_

 

_[roger]: are you in the art block??_

 

_[freddie]: yes can you come_

 

_[roger]: be there in ten meet me in the car park_

 

———-

 

Even had it not been for the distinctive hotrod red paint, waxed and buffed until the gleam could damn near blind a casual observer, and the double exhaust that could (and had) wake an entire London street, Freddie could have recognised Roger’s insufferable boy racer Mazda by the screech of its wheels alone, since he didn’t think his friend had ever got on board with the concept of a speed limit. Today, he couldn’t have been more grateful to hear it.

 

He bundled into the car, still closing the door when Roger pulled away with another squeal of protesting rubber. He’d already turned off the radio, and his face was worried and ready to anger. “What happened, Freddie?”

 

Freddie, having only just managed to pull himself back from the edge for long enough to get out of the building, felt his panic starting to bubble up again. He floundered, breathing hard, fighting back the stressed tears that threatened.

 

“Freddie! Talk to me!”

 

“I- oh _fuck_ Rog, I am so _fucked,_ I’m so _stupid!_ ” He threw his phone into the footwell of the car with no small amount of force, and covered his face with his hands. “He’s a professor, Brian’s a bloody professor, he was in my lecture, he _saw me-_ ”

 

“What? Who the fuck is Brian?”

 

“ _Brian_ , the guy, the fucking guy from the other night, the one that’s been messaging me.”

 

“Fucking Trixie!? That fucking stalker, he showed up _here_?”

 

“No, no no, it’s not- _no,_ Rog, not him, not like that, I don’t think he knew- but when he saw me, he knew it was me Rog, he’s messaged me, he _definitely_ knew it was me and now he knows who I am, he knows my name, he could tell everyone about Mercury- god I feel fucking sick, I’m gonna throw up darling.” He covered his mouth with his hand, tasting bile and iron, and screwed his eyes shut desperately to try to make the feeling go away.

 

“Don’t you dare throw up in my car, Fred,” Roger replied, but without venom and without slowing down. He ran a terse hand through his hair, swore, and slapped the wheel. “Jesus fucking Christ, okay. What is he, new? I thought you knew this guy.”

 

“Only his voice, only once- he’s not even a fucking art tutor, physics, never seen him before in my fucking life. What if he outs me, Rog? I’d have to leave, I couldn’t stay if people knew- god, everyone would know darling, _everyone_ , my parents-”

 

“Absolutely fucking not Fred, shut up. It’s not gonna happen, I’ll beat the shit out of that perv first and let everyone know what that fucker’s been doing. A fucking professor- bloody _creep_ , doesn’t he have anything better to do than wank on a fucking cam site?”

 

“Roger _don’t_ , you’ll make it _worse_ ,” Freddie pleaded, tears closing his throat and pricking his eyes. He wished he was strong enough to hold them back, but the hot shame of knowing that this was _his_ doing, the bed he’d made, was more than he could bear.

 

Roger’s hands tightened on the wheel- it was a good thing that he’d not dream of laying a finger on his baby, because had they not been in the car, he would definitely have punched something. The blonde was a live wire when he was angry, and the sparks were almost indiscriminate.

 

“If he tells anyone anything, I will kill him.”

 

Freddie didn’t doubt his sincerity for a moment.

 

“Did he say anything to you?”

 

He nodded. “He’s sent me messages. I- I couldn’t read them. I haven’t.”

 

“Right. Give me your phone, I’ll fucking read them.”

 

“You’re _driving_ , darling!”

 

Freddie was thrown against his seatbelt as the car took a sudden turn into a side road and screeched to a halt. Roger held out his hand. “Rog-“

 

“You wanted my help, Fred.”

 

Still, he hesitated. “I just- I don’t want you to see the other messages. Before.” With Brian, they weren’t even particularly explicit, but they had started to feel personal. Like _something_. He’d known it was ridiculous all along, but it felt even more stupid now.

 

Roger rolled his eyes. “Fuck, Fred, I’m not your mother- I won’t look. Can’t be bloody worse than walking in on you the other night, anyway. Read them yourself if you’re so bothered.”

 

“I thought we agreed not to talk about that,” he replied, and reluctantly (though quietly grateful) gave up his phone. Roger didn’t need to ask his passcode, and angled the screen away from his friend as he read. It only took a moment; Roger scoffed, tapped a pattern on the screen, and handed the phone back to Freddie. He restarted the ignition.

 

“Wait- what did you do? What did he say?” Freddie swiped to find and open kik, but Brian’s name was missing, their void where their conversation should have been glaring.

 

“Nothing, Fred, he’s full of shit. The only way to deal with that sort of cunt is to cut them out, you know that,” he replied, coolly. “I told him to go fuck himself and blocked the prick.”

 

“What!? Roger, you’re- oh _fuck_ , Rog!” His friend had not, it turned out, been exaggerating, and the sudden white-hot lance of anxiety at what Roger had said overrode Freddie’s reticence to open Brian’s chat.

 

_[brian]: that was you wasn’t it_

 

_[brian]: I didn’t know you went here_

 

_[brian]: sorry to scare you_

 

_[mercury]: dont ever even try to contact me again you disgusting perv or ill make sure everyone finds out ur a sick fuck_

 

He’d seen it. Freddie flung his head back against the seat and let out a strangled little cry through clenched teeth and threw his phone away, as though scalded, into the footwell. “Jesus fucking christ! Why the fuck did you write that?”

 

The engine was complaining, loudly; Roger stubbornly refused to lay off the accelerator, and Freddie wasn’t in the right frame of mind to argue with him about it for once. “Because it’s true and I know you’re not going to bloody say it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

 

“He wasn’t threatening me, you didn’t even give me a chance to ta-”

 

Both of them were thrown to the mercy of their seatbelts when a red light forced them to a stop; a relief, except that it gave Roger the chance to look him in the face, and the blond was having absolutely _none_ of Freddie’s bullshit in that moment. “So fucking talk to him, Fred. Let that prick get in your head and we’ll see how long it is before you’ve got another psycho stalker- is that what you want? Jesus _Christ,_ Freddie, I’m trying to help you but it’s like you _want_ to wind up the next dead hooker they fish out the fucking Thames!”

 

“It’s not like that.” His voice was small, quavering. “Don’t- I’m not a prostitute, Roger.”

 

Roger took a deep breath; ironic, since Freddie was sure there wasn’t any air in the car at all. “I know. Sorry.”

 

They pulled away, and the normally short ride back to their little flat in Kensington seemed to take an age. The silence was almost too much, but Roger didn’t move to turn the radio back on, and Freddie didn’t feel brave enough to do it himself.

 

“Thanks for picking me up,” he mumbled, when they’d finally found a space to park and the escape of his bedroom was only a staircase away. He went to make for the door, but Roger stopped him, reaching across the roof of the car with clear-cased iPhone in hand.

 

Freddie blinked as he took the phone, as surprised that he’d almost forgotten as that Roger hadn’t conveniently left it behind. He couldn’t look at it, or at his friend, so he just turned for the door with a mumble that might have been a thanks and fumbled his key into the lock with trembling fingers.

 

He kept two steps ahead of his flatmate all the way up the stairs and through the kitchen, as though Roger would have chased him into his room to carry on the argument. If he’d have looked behind him only for a second, he might have seen that his friend was almost as exhausted as he was, now that the adrenaline had passed.

 

Roger took a beer from the cupboard with the same grim resignation as a bottle of medicine; not for pleasure, but for necessity. He popped the cap, but didn’t drink, not watching his friend’s retreat down the narrow hall. His slim hips, his soft hair, his fine features; it was hard to look at him without thinking of all the ways in which he could be broken. On days like these, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was just fighting the tide.

 

“I’m scared for you, Freddie.”

 

His door drew to a soft close, but he heard. He knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to apologise that there is no sex in this chapter. I know, I'm sad about it too, but I hope that you've enjoyed the first suggestion of plot in this chapter. I'm really excited to start getting into the meat of this story.
> 
> I really do want to find a way to fit Deacy in though, and it's not coming naturally- if you have any suggestions, feel free to leave a comment or drop me a message on [tumblr (obscuriaal)](obscuriaal.tumblr.com). That goes for anything - comments and messages do literally sustain me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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